


My Little Puppeteer

by Skye_Fury



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Allura and Lance aren't siblings what's up, Allura is confused, Altean Alchemy, Altean lance, Bisexual Lance (Voltron), HUNK HAS CHARACTER DEVELOPMENT AND LOTS OF "SCREEN TIME", I Love Gays, Keith and Shiro are gay?, Lance is really hurting, M/M, Pain and blood and stuff, Spirit of Altea, altea, black paladin lance, kidnapping is mentioned, lotor kidnaps lance cool, yES QUEEN
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-18
Updated: 2018-05-21
Packaged: 2019-04-04 07:42:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,217
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14015523
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Skye_Fury/pseuds/Skye_Fury
Summary: Lance is a normal human being with a connection to a giant mechanical lion where he's supposed to defend the universe as a leg or whatever?... Yeah. Something isn't right with him recently and they day he wakes up with blood on his face and a strange dream of an Altean man among three different lions has Lance questioning his everything.(Updates Monthly)





	1. Carve a Little Bit of Care

**Author's Note:**

> Hey there! I've been dead and dormant for fifty years. Here's a Voltron fic. The intro feels quick and short, but I wanted to give everyone a hopeful taste of what's to come!

_ “Hey, Lance? What if we never get home?” _

 

Lance couldn’t manage to get to sleep after hearing his best friend murmur those words to him in a tired haze. What if they never did get home? What if everything they fought for, in the end, was absolutely nothing but revenge for Allura? Sure, he’d seen the smiling faces of aliens across the galaxy as they freed them from the grasp of the Galra, but something about all of this didn’t feel like an accomplishment at all. He wanted to be home. He wanted to be with his Mamá and everyone back in Cuba; its true that Voltron was a home away from home, but it wasn’t… his _home._

 

It took some time before he was really asleep, headphones over his ears and face mask on to keep his features radiant. He was prepared for dreams, but instead the feeling that once was sleep, was now him standing straight up and confused in the blue Altean armor he bore in all of the battles he fought. The galaxy surrounding his body and the blue and red lions looking upon him royally as if pride radiated from him. Lance was then met with the harsh, blue-eyed gaze of another person—an Altean, it seemed—in the space with him. His eyes were stunning, the marks on the apples of his cheeks were a brilliant, glowing blue, and his build was dainty and lean, but rather taut and muscular in the places where it mattered.

 

“Hello?” Lance called to the man, unable to recognize him from anything he had seen in the castle. “Hey, buddy? The name’s Lance, uhm, yeah. Where am I?”

 

The glowing man’s gaze was almost painful to Lance. He wasn’t able to see his stupid face. He can’t see anything except for that painful, fucking lighting. He seriously was getting so annoyed with this glow-stick dude, but he had no idea where the hell he was or what he was doi-

  
  


Pause. 

 

Wake up. 

 

“Lance, dude, my buddy, my bro, my sunlight buttercup boy. My-”

 

“Hunk. I’m up,” Lance laughed, removing his large headphones. 

 

Lance blinked the sleep out of his eyes and squinted in the harsh, white light of the Paladin’s Quarters bleeding into his room, blinding him. The light seemed familiar to him, but he knew it to be the lighting of the castle rather than the eye burning glow of an Altean man in space. Even still, the dream left him dazed and confused. 

 

“Okay, good- I snuck into the kitchen and made breakfast again, so no space goo today! Pidge woke up and her hair is a mess, you really should see it, she looks kinda like someone from Sesame Str-,” Hunk abruptly stopped his tangent, “Are you okay?”

 

Lance cocked an eyebrow and then felt something caressing his cheek. Warm, wet liquid gliding down his face in the areas he had managed to rub his face mask off of. He reached up to touch it, drawing his hand away to see the gleaming red on his fingers. Maybe he had gotten cut by his nails in his sleep or something? 

 

“Oh, dude- your other cheek too!” Hunk claimed, standing up from Lance’s bed. 

 

The Cuban boy shot up out of bed and moved with light footfalls to the bathroom branching from his room. Upon entrance, his hands grab hold of a towel and turn the water on; he splashes water on his face and rubs it gently, noticing the green mask mixed with blood falling into the sink. Lance dries his face with his towel and looks up into the mirror to look at the wounds on his face. They were similar, nearly symmetrical, obtuse angled cuts on the apples of his cheeks, still beading with fresh blood. The look of them brought about a chuckle from his throat, “Hunk! I look like Allura!” He laughed. 

 

The heavyset Samoan padded into the bathroom and gave Lance a questioning look in the mirror, “What are you talking about, man? Doesn’t that hurt?”

 

“I mean, yeah it does. It stings a bit, but it’s probably just a sign that I need to cut my nails,” Lance hums as he washes and pats away the last of the blood from his barely-noticeable cuts, “Let’s go see if Allura has any nail clippers or I’ll have to see if Keith can skillfully cut my nails with a knife.”

 

Slipping on his Blue Lion slippers, Lance and Hunk make their way to the Holodeck where they assume Allura might be presiding. They were correct, of course. There she was in all of her Altean royal glory, being the strategist she is, being the bright, amazing, beautiful, glorious, adorable, gorgeous-

 

“Lance?”

 

Noticing that he was literally staring goo-goo eyed at Allura out of habit, Lance snapped to attention, “Hey, ‘Llura! Do you have any nail clippers?” He hummed, tugging on his robe and lifting an eyebrow as he moved toward the center of the Holodeck. 

 

“Ah, uhm, what?” She asked, stepping down from the stage in the middle of the room ad meeting Lance halfway in hs trek, “Nail clippers?”

 

“Yeah, yeah. I need to cut my fingernails off,” Lance raised his hands to show her the length of his nails, “I cut my cheeks in my sleep last night. See?” He exclaimed, stepping closer to her to show Allura the small cuts on his cheeks. 

 

Her vibrant blue eyes examined his cheeks, squinting slightly to focus on the thin cuts, red and angry. She blinked and looked between Lance and Hunk, bringing a hand up to touch the pink markings on her face, a look of bewilderment evident on her features. “I can see if Coran happens to have anything,” She told him, voice wavering with question, “Wait a tick.”

 

Hunk noticed the tone she held in her voice when looking at Lance’s cuts, leading him to wonder just why she had any question or concern about it at all. It happens, doesn’t it? Everyone does something weird in their sleep. Some people punch themselves while others, apparently, scratch very precise marks into their cheeks. 

 

Still, the concern in her voice rubbed him in a way that ignited concern in his own mind. He looked to his friend and grabbed his shoulder, “Lance, do you normally move around a lot in your sleep?” 

 

Lance looked up to his friend, blue eyes filled with question, “I mean, I’ve had full on conversations, in spanish, in my sleep with my family, but I don’t think I’ve ever moved around enough to cut myself before, so this is a whole new experience.” He shrugged. 

 

It seemed to take a long time  before Allura was back with the Altean equivalent of fingernail clippers, handing them to Lance so he could make his way to the bathroom and begin cutting his off. She watched him leave and called Hunk to stay with her for a while because she had some questions about the “Yellow Lion’s defensive systems” or whatnot. Hunk stayed behind at her call, catching the severity of the tone she used when talking about his lion. He knew what she wanted to talk about wasn’t about Yellow at all. 

 

“I heard you asking him if he moved around a lot,” Allura told him, dropping her voice low just in case someone were to come in, “The algorithms in the castle have measured each individual Paladin’s health, including sleeping patterns. Lance didn’t scratch himself last night.” 

 

“How do you know this? Is that what took you so long to get the, uh, nail clippers?” 

 

“Yes,” She admitted, “It was just for a brief moment, but I felt I had to reread the measurements and codes more than once just to understand the human body’s sleep-wake cycle. When he entered REM sleep, as you call it, there was no motion caused from his dreaming except for the slight tossing and turning for comfort purposes.” 

 

Hunk’s jaw dropped. 

 

“That’s really cool.” 

“Indeed, it is, but it is also worrisome. I caught no signs of an intruder or anything that might’ve attacked him, because I hypothesized that someone might have marked him for some purpose or mockery of Altea because the scars on his face are similar to the shape and location of the marks on my cheeks.” Allura reported, placing a hand on her hip as she listed off the possibilities, “I’m going to run another check on the castle’s defenses just in case.” 

 

There was a nod of understanding between the two of them and Hunk set off to find which bathroom Lance was in while Allura commenced her check. 

 

About two or three halls away is where Hunk found Lance, gazing into the mirror at the blood on his face and nails clipped short. His blue eyes found the Samoan man, large and scared, “I didn’t do this.” He whispered.

 

The scars on his cheeks had widened slightly and the sight unnerved Hunk. He watched as his best friend splashed water on his face and help towels over the cuts in order to stop the bleeding, but it worked to no avail. Lance was shaking and looking at the blood soaked towel with fear in his eyes, “Hunk, get another towel and follow me to the castle infirmary.” He begged as he pushed past his friend and started trekking to his intended destination.

 

Hunk did as asked, following behind his friend while laced with the worries only a best friend could manage. Why was this happening to Lance? What exactly  _ was  _ happening to Lance? Nothing seemed to come to mind as he chased around every possible virus or disease that has been in and out of the castle ship, anything with the side effect of bloody, Altean imitation markings or whatnot. He was going to make sure to check the infirmary registry as soon as they got there. 

 

Which would be a while. 

 

Lance stopped walking toward the infirmary and was now tripping over his feet and wobbling like a man in a drunken stupor. Hunk was guessing it might be the blood loss, but the faint blue glow peeking from the bloody towel on the Cuban boy’s face left more of an inquisitive thought than anything. 

 

Then he noticed the mumbling of words and phrases Hunk knew neither to be English nor Spanish, something more foreign… more alien than anything he had heard before. 

 

“Lance?” Hunk called, “Lance, are you okay, buddy?”

 

He stopped and turned to look at Hunk, the familiar aqua blue of his irises reduced to a blinding, empty white as Lance continued to murmur. The towel dropped with his hand and through the red blood dawning his face like tears, Hunk could see the sickening glow of blue. Nothing else registered for a quick moment as the lanky boy spoke, hands reaching out to touch the walls of the castle and shift around as if looking for something. 

“Lance?”

 

_ “Where is the Blue Lion?” _

 

Hunk startled back a couple steps, taking in the other before him. He couldn’t understand why Lance’s objective had suddenly changed from getting to the infirmary to fix the gashes on his face to locating the Blue Lion’s hangar. This whole situation was worrying and confusing and the next few moments wouldn’t be much better. 

 

“Hunk, get down!”   
  


A few crashes and bangs resounded in the metal halls of the castle and suddenly Allura had Lance screaming, locked down by a pair of gravitational pull cuffs. The boy was hissing and cussing in hat Hunk soon learned was an ancient Altean dialect, one that Allura says she hasn’t heard in ten thousand years. 

“What’s wrong with him?” Hunk forced out, brown eyes searching for answers in Allura’s features. 

 

“My best guess is the castle is still glitching and it somehow got to Lance. We need to put him in a cryopod. I don’t understand fully what might be happening to him, but that is our best option.” 

 

Lance kept cursing, twisting and writhing in the cuffs that bound him to the ground.  _ “Blue! Help me! Blue help me! Blue! Blue help me! Help me!” _ He begged, slamming his head against the ground to much of a surprise to the other two surrounding him. 

 

A lion roared from her hangar. 

 

There was a scarlet splash of something on the ground. Blood. Blood from Lance’s head. 

 

“Hunk, help me get him into a cryopod!” Lance heard, as the edges of his vision started to blur. 

 

“Shiro, help!” Hunk grunted. 

 

Lance felt himself being lifted and groaned, eyes fluttering as he heard the quick footfalls of a few other people and muffled calls to him as he drifted out of consciousness. 

 

✩

 

_ “You didn’t get to the lion, earthling.” _

Lance blinked and moved his arm up to counteract the blinding blue and white hues of light erupting from the space behind the Altean man from his previous dream. His head erupted with a headache and his squinting features trying to lock on to anything aside from the blinding lights, “Why would I need to?” He groaned back, tasting iron in his mouth. 

 

_ “Blue knows how to stop the pain.”  _ The unseeable man bit back,  _ “Though, I wish I wouldn’t have to cause you so much pain.”  _

 

Lance shifted from his position on the ground to a cross legged sitting position, “What do you mean?”

 

_ “In due time, Paladin.” _ The man’s voice echoed in the space around them. 

 

_ Lance. _

 

“Hey, wait! What the hell does that me- OW!” Lance hissed, slapping his hand over his cheek. It burned. It really, really hurt. He moved his hands away from his face and noticed the blue glow radiating from his cheeks. 

 

“Wha-...”

  
  


✩

 

“Lance!” 

 

He heard Keith calling for him through the fog in his mind, everything seemingly lost in translation despite Lance’s bilingual talents. He could recognize his name well enough, but something in his brain wasn’t clicking when it came to the calls of support and hope. Nothing was working, is seemed. He heard the hissing sound of the pod doors open and then the quick and needy grasps of hands as they pulled him out of stasis. 

 

Allura spoke first, her tone hushed and soft, “His vitals are secured. Everything is as it should be according to human biology, but….”

 

“But, what?” Keith retorted harshly. 

 

Lance felt something soft brush his cheeks and then an unfamiliar warmth burst from the location those stupid, bloody gashes formed. He could hear Allura’s audible gasp and Coran utter a few words to the Princess, awestruck by something Lance couldn’t see. The warmth erupted from one location to the rest of his entire body, forcing a scream to rip itself from his throat. His body writhed and, with blue eyes blown wide, he reached out for anyone to hold on to in order to ground himself throughout the pain. 

 

Then the sudden roar of the Blue lion from her hangar had the rest of team Voltron looking at Lance and then around the room in a startle. His screaming mixed with the cries of the Lion had hearts racing.

 

“What’s wrong with him?”


	2. Experimental Kiss Hello

            Lance had eventually screamed himself hoarse when it came down to the bones of the situation. He was writhing in Shiro’s arms, heart beating too fast for comfort. “Is he going to be okay, Princess?” Shiro asked softly, placing a cool metal hand on Lance’s forehead.

 

            She looked over the Cuban boy as he visibly relaxed into the cool touch of the bionic arm, eyes worrying his lanky frame for any information it could give her aside from the blood-crusted, glowing cuts on his face. Allura knit her eyebrows close together and brought her arms into a crossed position, “As far as I can tell, he might have contracted something during a mission. As for his current wounds, something tells me I am either being mocked or there is a part of Lance we have completely missed.”

 

            “Mock you?” Hunk chimed in, tying his headband around Lance’s head to keep hair off of his sweaty forehead, hoping to make things slightly more comfortable for his friend, “Who would be trying to mock you? Why would they even think about doing that? I mean, the Galra see Alteans as a weaker, more edged toward world peace kinda race and they’re all completely wiped out. With you and Coran being the only Alteans left alive, it doesn’t really make sense to mock you unless it’s the Galra trying to, ohhhh….”

 

            Allura’s look of utter disdain pulled Hunk from his tangent, “That might be exactly what they want, Hunk.”

 

            “I didn’t follow,” Shiro huffed, “What is it they want?”

 

            “A reaction.”

 

            Grey eyes widened and then set into an annoyed glare. It still didn’t make sense to him. Of all people, why make Lance the object they use to mock Allura? He shook his head, softly setting the tan boy in his arms down on a bed in the infirmary, “I disagree.”

 

            “And why is that, Shiro?” Allura asked, clenching her fists with a bothered rage, “It makes complete sense! They want a reaction from me! They want me to blow up in their faces and destroy the Coalition. For the sake of the Galra Empire, they want me to lose grip on determination so they can have Voltron.”

 

            “Then, why use Lance?”

 

            Allura’s fists relaxed and her blue eyes widened a fraction as if to take in the build of the man before her. Shiro had been in the clutches of the Galra for years, the knowledge he had on their goals was much more valuable than the hatred she held against them. Hatred wasn’t going to win the war.

 

            “Lance isn’t invaluable, but you and I both know he is severely under looked by Zarkon. They would most likely target me out of all of the Paladins and we both know this,” He stated, the years of being the Champion reigning heavily on his shoulders.

 

            Hunk looked between the two decisive heads, the wheels in his head turning to generate his thoughts on this situation. He had known Lance for years and has observed the weird things his friend had done. Writing weird symbols while spacing out or being unable to connect with the world around him—how he covered up everything that seemed a little bit faulty with this twisted sense of humor he’d developed. It was as if he was forcing himself to cope with a piece of him he’d never learned to understand, but when he was questioned, the paladin refused to engage completely.

 

            It has to be some sort of space virus. The Galra would only target Lance if there were some trick up their sleeves, but Zarkon’s goal is to regain the Black Lion and put Voltron in utter disarray for the sake of his empire. That’s where the information started lacking; they were going to need to test a few things and make sure Lance’s health was in check.

 

            “Allura,” Hunk chimed, “Shiro is right. Every logistical possibility that Lance is the token for a small fit of mockery is very slim. I think we should wait until he wakes up, explain the situation, and run some tests,” The Yellow Paladin neared the bed his best friend laid on, shuddering at the swollen gashes on his friend’s face, “I want to make sure he’s healthy and happy, Princess. Please understand.”

 

            There was a reached agreement. Allura would allow for Lance to be cleaned up and comforted until he was awake and stable enough to understand the situation at hand. Tests were going to consist of both Altean ideals and regular Earth physicals that the frail, Cuban boy would understand amidst the alien technology. Pidge, Keith, and Coran were brought up to speed with the situation, told that it would be best if they wrote out plans to help their friend because Hunk knew how nervous Lance got, just how bad the anxiety riddled his bones and caused him to sink into a pit of fear.

 

            However, Keith didn’t seem to enjoy the idea. Hunk had noticed that, as he briefed the hotheaded Paladin, fists were clench and there was that thumb-rubbing stimulation he did when he recorded his vlog. It was daunting, really. The Yellow Paladin sauntered closer to his friend, large hands setting his shoulders down, “Keith, its gonna be okay,” He spoke softly and Keith’s gaze melted, “Lance will be okay.”

 

            “Yeah, I get that,” He snapped, “Its just hard for me to understand what the living hell is going on right now and why you want to _experiment_ on him!”

 

            Hunk raised his hands, face contorting into a defensive glance, “Listen, man. This is for his health, not to poke fun at whatever he’s infected with. Don’t get all snappy with me for wanting to help my friend.”

 

            “You’re playing with his life, Big Man!”

 

            Hunk’s eyebrows furrowed and crossed his arms over his chest angrily, “I’m not doing anything like that, man. I care about Lance and I want him to be happy and healthy instead of hurting, bleeding, and screaming. If you’re suggesting that I refrain from helping him and sticking him in a healing pod every quintant, then you can march your tiny, hotheaded ass right out of this infirmary and sulk in a corner!”

 

            There was silence. Four worried gazes fell on the quarreling pair. Keith’s dark eyes were wide and frustrated in comparison to Hunk’s—normally warm eyes—being stone cold and angry. The air about them was full of conflict and anger, but stoked with the same desire to protect someone they cared about. It was the Samoan’s venom that was the catalyst to an immediate slip of a fist: _“Why do you even care, Keith?”_

It seemed like a flash of light when Keith’s clenched fist connected with Hunk’s jaw. The larger man stumbled backward, clutching the edge of an infirmary cot and setting his jaw back in place and licking his lips. Contrast to Hunk’s sturdy stance was a shaking, angry Keith. His eyes were set a burning a vibrant gold, clenching and unclenching his fists in a pattern unknown to anyone else.

 

            “Shiro,” Hunk grunted, “Please get Keith out of here before Lance wakes up.”

 

            “Don’t,” Keith growled, continuing with his stimulating movements, “I can show myself out. I’ll be on the training deck.”

 

✩

 

            It was some time before Lance completely came to: around a couple days or so. He couldn’t remember the events before he woke up in as much detail as he wanted to, the splitting headache he carried eating his thoughts away like a parasite.

 

            “ _Shiro,”_ Lance groaned, his own voice sounding hoarse in his ears.

 

            There was the sudden booming sound of the infirmary doors sliding open, causing Lance to cover his ears and wince. Everything was so loud.

 

            “Lance! Are you-“

 

            Lance hissed and pressed his hands into his ears harder, wincing and looking to Shiro with pain in his eyes.

 

            “Sorry,” he whispered, “Are you okay?”

 

            Lance nodded, dropping his hands and looking at the Black Paladin with a small smile of relief, _“Thank you, Shiro.”_

            There was a tight smile on Shiro’s lips that fell quickly and morphed into a look of confusion, “Uh, what was that?”

 

            _“I said thank you, buddy.”_

“Lance, I haven’t studied Spanish before…”

 

            There was a look of annoyance on Lance’s face, _“I’m literally speaking English, Shiro. What the fuck, man?”_

“Did you really just say ‘quiznak’ in the middle of a Spanish phrase, Lance?”

 

            The elder man was chuckling, looking at Lance like he was talking to a child from the standpoint of a babysitter. Was he bothering Shiro or something? Its not like Lance knew very well, considering he did _just_ wake up from whatever stasis he was in, “¿En serio, Shiro? Esto es español. _This is clearly English._ ”

 

            Shiro looked even more confused than before, paging for Pidge or Coran to come help him with translation. Maybe hitting his head or the seizure he had earlier messed something up, making it hard for him to speak English. Brain damage isn’t something that the Japanese man took lightly and was going to suggest putting Lance back into the pod just in case this was something permanent, but the case was solved as soon as Coran spoke to him.

 

            _“Coran, I think Shiro’s playing a prank or something. He keeps asking me not to speak Spanish while I’m clearly not. Was this a planned joke? Its not funny when I’m not in on it, man!”_ Lance seemingly complained.

 

            Coran’s eyes widened, fingers stopping abruptly in the midst of twirling his mustache, _“You can’t hear the way you sound?”_

 

            The boy in the bed lifted his arms, _“Finally,”_ he groaned, _“Wait- what do you mean ‘the way I sound’?”_

            The older man pressed his hand to his mouth and looked between Lance and Shiro, “ _Lance, you’re really unaware?_ ”

 

            Lance groaned and shifted on the bed, “ _Apparently! Did I develop an accent? Is something wrong or are you two playing me? C’mon, Coran!_ ”

 

            “You’re speaking Altean,” Coran spoke grimly, “You’re speaking a language founded ten thousand years before your conception, Lance.”

 

            “ _How?”_ Lance draped his legs over the side of the bed, “ _I never even tried to learn it._ ”

 

            Blue eyes wondered between Coran and Shiro before he noticed the entrance of Pidge and Allura. He looked directly at Allura and began twisting his fingers, mouth shut tight and eyes downcast.

 

            “Lance,” She called in a relieved manner, “I’m so glad to see you’re alright. How are you feeling?”

 

            He shoved a shaky thumb up in the air and gave the princess a nervous smile. The look the princess gave him back was more confused than anything else, though. It was like she couldn’t believe him.

 

            “Does he not feel like talking?” She asked the other men in the room.

 

            “I don’t think he quite likes a certain issue, Princes,” Coran replied while stepping closer to the Altean beauty.

 

            “What…issue?”

 

            “He isn’t speaking a human language at the present time, Allura.”

 

            Allura looked at the group of men and carefully examined Lance. Her blue eyes bore holes into the Cuban boy; her gaze slithered through his core and ignited a blazing fire that burned him from the inside out. He wanted to beg Allura to stop looking at him just as much as he wanted to take his lion and blast his ass through space in order to get back home and hug the life out of his family. She wouldn’t stop staring.

 

Stop staring.

 

“ _Allura, please stop looking at me,_ ” Lance croaked.

 

A sharp gasp and the loud clash of a dish on the ground made Lance wince and look at anything but the Altean princess.

 

“Lance! When did you learn that?” She interrogated, “You couldn’t have possibly had the time to gather such fluent understanding of such an old language in such a short time—especially with your motivational drive…”

 

“ _Hey! My motivation is perfectly fine, ‘Llura!”_

“It is most certainly not,” The princess snapped back, “Now, we need to get you back in a pod so we can observe the changes in your body and find the root source of all of,” She motioned, almost disgustedly, to Lance, “This…”

 

✩

 

     It felt like forty years to Lance, when it was literally 20 minutes, sitting in that pod and watching Hunk, Coran, and Pidge run rampant trying to gather information on this particular problem. Each of them said some science-y thing that he couldn’t comprehend, which made him feel like the dumbest fuck in the room, but what’s new? This made his self-esteem plummet, which then affected the blue glow in his cheeks, making it dim.

 

            “Hey, buddy,” Hunk tapped on the pod’s door, “Are you okay?”

 

            Lance nodded, unsure of whether or not he could speak English again.

 

            Hunk eyebrows furrowed and he pressed his hand against the glass, “No, you’re not. You can’t lie to me, Lance.”

 

            Lance’s eyes bore into Hunk, a more vibrant blue than normal, “ _I appreciate you so much, buddy.”_

 

            “I appreciate you too, Lance.”

 

            The Cuban boy behind the glass perked up and looked at Hunk, “ _Did I speak English this time?_ ”

           

            “No, but Coran installed a translator in this cool earpiece I’m wearing,” Hunk pointed a finger to the white piece in his ear, glowing a happy yellow, “I can understand you, so feel free to talk, okay?”

 

            “ _I’m frustrated.”_

 

            “I know.”

 

            “ _I don’t even know what’s going on I—_ “

 

            “Lance?”

 

            There was no answer to return Hunk’s call, just a vibrant blue glow and glassy eyes looking past him. In the same a moment, a breath of cool air rocked the technicians in the room to the ground, shivering and confused. The pod’s door opened with an angry hiss and Lance wobbled out, turning his gaze toward the door.

 

“ _I want to go home._ ”

“Home?” Pidge chattered, slipping a blanket off of the cot above her, “Lance, we’re busy saving the galaxy, we can’t go home!”

 

            The infirmary door opened and Lance began stepping out of the room, hands gliding up his body to fiddle with the wisps of hair on his neck and then moving to his face to wipe the crusted, dry blood from the glowing scars. He looked up at the long bangs handing in front of his eyes, noting the lighter brown they were now, “ _Always white, huh?_ ” He asked himself aloud as he continued moving to the ship’s hull, leaving his friends to freeze in the infirmary.

 

            The castle’s lights flickered as Lance got closer and closer to the control room, the halls freezing as he descended, “ _Home is where the heart is,_ ” He muttered, fiddling with his nails.

 

            Blue roared from her hangar, causing Lance to stop in his tracks and look with wide, blown eyes in her general direction. Warmth surged through him and his body crumpled to the ground with a desperate scream.

 

            “Stop! Stop! Leave me alone! Get out! Get out!” Lance begged, tears ripping themselves from his eyes, “This fucking hurts, you piece of shit. Leave me alone!”

 

            Blue cried out for Lance again, attempting to alert everyone in the castle as the lights and heating stabilized. Her paladin is in pain.

 

            “Lance!” Someone called as the Blue Paladin began tearing himself off of the floor, “Lance, what the hell are you doing?”

 

            “Keith...”

            He felt his body shift and desperate hands cling to each other in a frenzy. Heat spread through Lance’s limbs, bringing him to life again, eyes fluttering open and the glowing dimming again. He glanced over Keith’s face. Was he always this handsome?

 

            “Lance, why are you out here?” Keith hissed, but the worry in his tone was easily noticeable.

 

            “Keith.” Lance groaned, grasping the Red Paladin’s cheek.

           

            The air around them thickened with intent, Lance adjusting to move toward other with strong desires. Keith fell victim to the air around him, eye lids falling and body moving to engulf Lance.

 

            Then, a kiss. A sweet kiss, soft and gentle. One that relaxed Lance and made him feel like sugar; like a child again; like home.

 

“What the hell are you two doing?”

 

            Broken.


End file.
